Ice is back with a brand new invention...

Wow man. Almost made it a whole WEEK without an update to the "Blog." Must mean I'm back to normal. Or on my death bed. Meh, take your pick.

Okay, gallows humor aside, no, I'm not on my death bed. For the most part, I've been doing okay. Although, "okay" has a completely new definition around here. I take my pills. I get yelled at when I don't. I help with Ted as much as I can. I sleep. A lot. I almost feel guilty about the amount of sleep I get. (Note the use of the word "almost.") My pregnant wife schedules appointments, gets Teddy to daycare, yells at me for missing meds, cleans the house, cooks meals, runs the house...I cannot thank her enough. It's really quite amazing just how awesome she is. Don't mistake me, I'm not surprised - I always knew she was awesome - it's just awesome to see it in full effect. Awesome.

We've been blanketed by snow, multiple times now. The DC region ain't built for this nonsense. On Tuesday (I think...one thing that definitely does happen is the days run together) we were awoken by the phone ringing. It was my neurosurgeon's office calling to reschedule Wednesday's appointment on the assumption the snow would cancel it. I groggily requested the next most available one, somehow committed it to memory (which is, really, quite a feat these days) and went back to sleep. Upon re-waking up a few hours later I passed the info to Laura, only to find I had, in fact, double-booked with something else. But little Ms. Awesomesauce got on the phone and shuffled and dealt and got everything L-7 squared away.

Which, again, super sweet and awesome, because, yes, we got hammered by the snow. And just when you think it's FINALLY done, there is no more that can possibly fall...you look outside, see more white crap in the air, and mutter a few words which, if they were  typed here, would result in my nephew Liam pointing out "That's a bad word....that's a bad word...that's a really bad word..."

(Which, apparently, happened once WHICH IS WHY I TAG THESE STUPID THINGS AS "NOT KID FRIENDLY" -!!!!!)

The wounds seem to be healing. The one *on* my forehead is starting to gunk up and peel Dermabond, which is rather reminiscent of the gooey glue they use on junk mail. I can feel the sutures up on top of my head, but they aren't dissolving (yet) and just make for uncomfortable showers.

Something never specifically covered, but very much implied, and I think most everyone figured this out, is that I only ever had one (additional) brain surgery. Two total, the initial biopsy and then the booger-picking. Doc was really good. Going into the second surgery, there were a bunch of questions I still had. When they came to ask me, I pointed out that I had *not* signed my "informed consent" paperwork, and would like to talk with the Doc briefly. I also made it known that I wasn't really having second thoughts or thinking of cancelling the surgery - I really wasn't - I just wanted to clarify a few things.

Doc was really good about this. The whole team was really good about this. When I made that known, the night PA paged the Doc and sent him a text, so he'd know ahead of time. Then, as they were prepping me for surgery and wheeling me to the PACU (Pre-Anesthesia Care Unit), the good Doc appeared out of the stairwell having been on his way to find me. We talked while I was pushed, Laura right there able to hear everything and ask her questions as well, and I felt much better about what was going on. In particular, he again noted that this was going to likely involve several surgeries, which I stated we were well aware of and accepted that part.

But it turns out, no. The booger-picking went really well, Doc was able to get every last scrap of it that he could. I haven't been fully briefed in, but I believe the feeling is that there was some tumor left over that was fibrously integrated with parts of "good" brain. But nothing left to chop out.

So, where does this leave us? Not quite sure. That's what the 5 million follow-up appointments with 12 different clinics are for. (Okay, maybe not quite that many.) Internet research (which, again, is back on the "allowed" list since we know the type and location of Sylvia) suggests that they'll want to use targeted radiation therapy. But that's all crazy wild speculation on my part (and Laura's).

For now, a weekend of fun and playing. And snowballs.

Mommy and Teddy

Daddy and Teddy (and forehead scar)

Caught in the act! Teddy throwing a snowball at Mommy!